


raison d'être

by 0mens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Do-Over, F/M, Gen, Time Meddling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:12:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0mens/pseuds/0mens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You want to make things better? It's simple; save Fred Weasley." In which Hermione redoes Deathly Hallows and fixes it all, including herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Name: Chris

Title: raison d'être

Fandom: Harry Potter

Genre: General

Rating: T

Summary: "You want to make things better? It's simple; save Fred Weasley." In which Hermione redoes Deathly Hallows and fixes it all, including herself.

A/N: Fair warning: I'm not entirely sure this is all going to work out this time around, but I do really love this story and I’m going to give it a serious go. Sound good?

 

……...... 

imagine a world without me, say you're falling apart  
let's pretend you've missed me for a while  
\- fact/fiction, mads langer 

…...…... 

 

Heaving a deep sigh, Hermione closed her door and sank back against it. She didn't even have to try to know that Ron was still on the other side, in her hallway, hoping she would change her mind and invite him inside.

She just…couldn't. Not yet. Things between them were still too shaky.

It was ridiculous, as both Ron and Ginny kept telling her, to still keep such a distance between herself and her boyfriend of almost three years. But that didn't stop the niggling feeling that something was off whenever they were together these days. Not bad, just off, in some small way that she couldn't pinpoint and didn't understand.

Which, if Hermione was being completely honest, was a feeling she absolutely hated. Of course it was right. This was her and Ron; she was just being silly.

Just... silly.

A scratching at the living room window drew her attention and a small smile flitted over her lips when she saw the Weasley family owl sitting on the sill. She opened it and stood back as Barnsey, a gift from Hagrid, did a few laps around her light fixture before making himself comfortable on the coffee table. He extended his leg to Hermione, who untied the bundle carefully with one hand and scratched his head with the other. Once free of his load, he shot out of the window, not even waiting for the treat Hermione usually gave him.

_'Found these in an old sweets box while I was cleaning, and thought you might like to have them – Love, Molly.' ___

The envelope was a little tattered, most likely due to Barnsey's mad dash from the Burrow. Molly had been a bit of a cleaning spree lately, coinciding with the arrival of her first grandchild, and had a habit of sending any number of odds and ends to her children and those she considered to be practically hers. The contents turned out to be a small stack of photographs, going all the way back to her first year at Hogwarts. She recognized the picture on top, having seen it numerous times in Harry's photo album, but didn't know how Molly had gotten a copy. Seeing herself with Harry and Ron at eleven was a little shocking, still, reminding her that she had pretty much been building her whole world around them for close to half her life.

She wondered, briefly, how differently her life would have been if not for one strategically placed mountain troll.

The second picture was another one she had seen before, her and Ginny before Bill and Fleur's wedding, taken by Mrs. Delacour while they were helping the bride get ready. Next came the summer after the war, her and Harry sitting under the big tree at the Burrow, laughing over something Ron was doing out of the frame. She couldn't even remember what it was any more, only that it felt so good to finally laugh again. At anything.

She continued flipping through them, a sea of familiar faces, some she saw on a regular basis, some that were no longer here, smiling up at her. She was in the majority of them – probably being the factor that prompted Molly to send them to her in the first place, but there were some where she was absent, replaced by Ginny or Harry or Ron, Neville in some, or Hagrid. But each one caused a deep pang in her chest when she realized that she hadn't had a whole lot of moments like those in the last few months of her life.

When Hermione came to the last picture she sat down on the arm of her couch.

After three years Hermione had grown accustomed to the feeling of shock and displacement that washed over her when it would again hit her that Fred Weasley was no longer around.

She knew of course, intellectually at least. It had been the biggest, most gaping reminder of what war could truly do, the loss of someone so young and so painfully alive. It was still hard sometimes to sit at the dinner table at the Burrow and not let her eyes drift to the one chair that always sat empty, the one that had always unofficially been his.

Looking down at the figures in the frame, Hermione tried to smile but it was difficult, seeing her fourteen year old self sandwiched between a smiling Fred wearing green face paint and Harry in that ridiculous hat at the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione flipped it over. The only words scrawled across the back were 'Harry, Hermione, and Fred. World Cup, 1994' which she already knew. She had no idea who had taken the picture, at what point during the game, or even how Molly had come to have it. But the gesture was still appreciated. It must have been difficult for her to give up a picture of Fred to anyone, and she was grateful Molly had sent it to her, though she mentally reminded herself to ask her if she would like a copy, and to make one for Harry as well.

Hermione turned the picture back over, staring at the three faces, laughing, happy, carefree for that brief moment in time, and felt her heart break for what became of those three kids, and all the ones not shown in the small square before her.

Before she climbed into bed, Hermione tucked the photo into the frame of the mirror over her dresser, staring at it for a long time in the moonlight after she went to bed.

……......

That night, for the first time in a long while, Hermione dreamt of the war.

It was common for awhile. All of them had nightmares, sometimes worse, for months after the final battle was done and they had tried to piece things back together. Hermione had lost count of all the nights she'd woken up, sweating or screaming or even crying, with those horrible moments still replaying in her mind and had sat up till dawn trying to calm her mind enough to get out of bed.

This time was different. 

She wasn't running, or scared, or filled with a deep dread. In this dream she sat around a small magicked fire in the tent, Harry and Ron on either side of her, listening to Potterwatch on Ron's radio. She laughed, a rarity in those months, feeling a little less bleak than before as Lee and George and Fred told their stories and made _terrible _puns through the speakers.__

Fred. 

It had helped, listening to the show. A lot, actually. More than Hermione had realized at the time. More than once they had been lulled to sleep by those familiar voices that they knew so well. And later, after Fred died, Hermione thought about those nights often. Fred's voice was such a common thing in her life, had been since she was eleven years old, that she didn't realize it's perpetual presence until that awful, permanent silence. 

Hermione was eight when her grandfather died, and she remembered her mother watching old home movies all the time for a few weeks. She'd said it made her feel closer to him, hearing his voice again.

Wizards didn't have those kinds of things, which was a shame in Hermione's opinion. The vague memory of hearing Fred and George chattering away down the table at the Burrow, or through the thin walls late at night while they planned and plotted new mischief... it just wasn't the same. 

When she woke up, there wear dry tear tracks on her cheeks.

….........


	2. rapere ad vitam

  
some things just couldn't be protected from storms. some things simply needed to be broken off...   
once old thing were broken off, amazingly beautiful things could grow in their place.  
  
― denise hildreth jones

 

............

 

The whole next day Hermione had the feeling that she was being watched. She couldn't explain it, and there was never any evidence that was happening outside of her head, and yet the feeling would not abate. She went about her day, poring over ordinances and complaints, reading up on the new regulations in wait to be approved or denied, she had lunch with Harry and had a lengthy conversation with Mr. Weasley about clock radios when she ran into him on the third floor. She went about her day just as she always did, but the hair on the back of her neck remained on end until she locked the door to her flat and exhaled a breath that had been caught in her throat all day.

Crookshanks walked over to her and wound his way around her legs, purring in the overly sweet way he was prone to do whenever it was obvious she was stressed or upset. She bent to scratch his head and then went to change.

A thump, followed by a long creak, caught her attention, and she didn't even bother to finish changing before she dashed out of her bedroom, wand drawn…

…only to see herself standing in her living room, an amused expression on her face, Crookshanks looking between the two of them.

"Wha-how…who are you?"

The other Hermione, who looked just a smidge different than the reflection she saw in the mirror everyday, snorted. Actually snorted "I'm you." 

That made no sense whatsoever. "But…I'm me."

"Yes, but so am I," she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing ever, and not a bit strange. 

The beginnings of a migraine rose up behind her eyes, the pressure centering itself directly where it was going to be the most annoying. "This is not making any sense whatsoever."

Settling herself on the couch, the other Hermione looked around with a fond smile, allowing Crookshanks to jump into her lap to be petted. "I remember this flat. I loved it here."

"As in, past tense?"

She nodded. "Yes. I don't live here anymore. In my time that is."

Now the pieces were beginning to fall into place. "Your time?"

"I'm from the future," she told her, "roughly seven and a half years from now."

Seven years? That wasn't much of a stretch, though it did account for the subtle differences in their appearances, like the slight tan and the shorter, somewhat straighter hair, as well as a small scar on the underside of her wrist that she noticed as the other version of herself stroked the length of the cat's tale.

The only question left was; what was she doing here?

"So why did you come here? Does anyone know? There are rules about time travel and the effects it can have serious consequences-"

A hand came up to cut off the flow of her words. Her mouth clamped shut and, sighing, she sank down in the arm chair on the opposite side of the coffee table from her doppelganger. She'd always hated that word.

"There are a few people who know I'm here, and it was a bit difficult to swing, but the fact of the matter is, I know that you're not happy." Hermione was so dumbfounded that she couldn't even formulate a response-not that it mattered much, as the older her continued to talk, undeterred. "I remember it, that feeling that something's not quite right. And I can tell you how to fix that, how to right things." For the first time she saw the familiar gold chain glinting under the dark blue of the older woman's robes.

Well that was just about the most preposterous – and pompous – thing Hermione had ever heard anyone say. Which was saying something, considering a few of the people she worked with. Justin Finch-Fletchly sprang to mind for one.

"How do you know how to fix anything, if you made all the same choices I did?"

It was a fair question. It was impossible to know that something would be better if you had never actually seen it the ramifications of altering the outcome. What if wasn't better? What if it were a gigantic mistake?

"I just," she began, "I can't see how you can be so certain that changing anything will be better."

Leaning forward, the future Hermione laid her palm gently on her younger self's hand. She raised her eyes and was greeted with warm sympathy in the eyes of the older her. "Let's just say… that I figured out a way to see the outcome, and I am certain. Things have to change. Living your life to make others happy is an insult to all the people who never got that option."

The sentiment struck a cord, and Hermione was reminded of what those who had died in the war, their families, would give to be able to go fix all that had gone wrong.

And yet...

“That's... cheating. It isn't fair. What makes us so important that we get the do-over? What about everyone else? Tonks, Lupin... Don't you think Teddy would like to change things and have his parents back? Or the Weasleys; they'd do anything to have Fred back. Lavender Brown, she's still having trouble finding a job since she was bitten–''

“It isn't just me. Just you,” the older woman ran a distracted hand through her hair, mussing it into state Hermione was more familiar with. “You're right. You have no reason to trust me, to believe me. You don't have to do what I tell you. But there are a lot of people's future happiness depending on the decisions you're making right now.”

“Like who?”

“Ron.”

Swallowing, Hermione nodded slowly. If she needed to do this for Ron, for the people she loved, there really wasn't an option. "What do I have to do?"

"First," the older Hermione pulled her wand out of the pocket of her dark blue robes, "I need you do something extremely important. I need you to make an Unbreakable Vow."

Something in Hermione snapped, and she stood up with all the fury she possessed in her body, shaking. "I can't believe you would-" She broke off, the anger coursing through her making speech difficult. If this person sitting across from her was truly herself, then Hermione knew how her mind worked and asking for an Unbreakable Vow was a last resort, a way to let her know that she was desperate… but it also meant that she held doubts that her younger self would follow through with the task completely without it.

She didn't trust her. 

"I can't, not without knowing why," she said. "And we would need a third person anyway."

Holding up her finger, Future Hermione wordlessly flicked her wand and Neville Longbottom appeared in her living room. The Neville from her time, whom Hermione had just seen yesterday.

Clearly, this had been thought out more than she had initially thought.

"Neville…"

Having him there, it leant a credence to the situation that hadn't been there previously.

"When Hermione Granger asks a favour, I say yes," he told her, wide grin on his familiar face. “Any Hermione Granger.”

Reluctantly, because she was still a bundle of nerves, but without the niggling worries that it was just a harebrained impulse, she extended her arm, wrapping her fingers around the other woman's wrist.

"Promise," said the other Hermione," that whatever it takes, whatever the cost, you will make sure that Fred Weasley doesn't die."

Hermione's heart stuttered, and her stomach dropped. Fred? Saving Fred was going to fix what was wrong in her life? Going back in time, presumably, and altering an event that had shaped the lives of every single person she knew in the Wizarding World for the last three years? Her head began to spin, the headache that had been threatening to hit her earlier settling into a hard throbbing at the base of her skull.

Two sets of eyes were fixed on her, and she gulped, her throat constricting tightly. "Before I do," she said, "I need you to answer one question."

The face so like her own went stony, mouth set and eyes cold. "I won't tell you what will change."

She shook her head. "I figured as much. I want to know why you came back to now, to me at this age. Wouldn't it make more sense to warn me when I was younger – even a year?"

Exchanging a glance with Neville, her older self took a deep breath and began to speak. "This was when I made a decision that I've begun to realize was a mistake. But I can't take it back. It would hurt too many people, so I have to undo it before it ever happens. If the same events unfold… I'll have to accept that it was supposed to happen."

A cold chill swept over her body, and Hermione closed her eyes, wanting it all to be some horrible dream. But it wasn't. And when she opened her eyes to see the faces of herself and one of her oldest friends looking back at her, she knew that there was no way to just wish this all away.

"Hermione," Neville said softly, "I know its hard, but you have to trust us on this. I've seen you in the future." He glanced over at the Hermione from his time before returning his attention to her. "You're not happy, and you should be. If anybody deserves to be happy, its you. And there's a way to fix what went wrong."

She wanted to tell him that a lot of people weren't happy all the time, that things could get better. Mostly she wanted t say that it was unfair, and selfish, to change so many lives just to suit her own purposes. What if everyone did that? The injustice of it all hit her, and she opened her mouth to say as much but clamped it shut upon seeing the hope and affection in Neville's eyes. Not matter what, Hermione knew that as much as Neville respected her, cared for her, he wouldn't do something so huge without a good reason behind it.

Older Hermione nodded, resigned to what had to be done, she squared her shoulders and again asked her younger self to promise. "You want to make things better? It's simple; save Fred Weasley."

"Okay."

It wasn't like her. She was never so reckless, so illogical. But something in the eyes and voices of the two people in front of her made her see that they believed what they were saying, and she couldn't help but be moved by what that meant.

Besides, there had been times in the past when spontaneity worked out pretty well for her.

Neville touched his wand to their joined hands, a thick swirl of smoke encircling their grasp as Hermione vowed to do whatever it took to prevent Fred Weasley from dying, whatever the cost.

 

............

 

Hermione realized that she had, in essence, been duped.

No sooner than the words of acquiescence had slipped out of her mouth she felt a jolt, akin to a portkey, and swayed to a stop on her unsteady feet in a scene of absolute chaos. Screams and yells filled the air, the smells of magic and fear and panic tingeing the air around her, cloying and clinging to her body the second she had control over her faculties again.

She was back at Hogwarts, at the battle, seeing all the things that plagued her nightmares alive and tangible all around her.

"Hermione!"

Ron was shaking her arm, pulling her in the direction of the bathroom where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was. "Are you alight? You look a bit peaked."

She shook her head, not quite believing that her future self and Neville had sent her back in time, into her seventeen year old body, to relieve this horror.

It was enough to make her consider hexing Neville.

Another time, maybe.

A flash of blonde caught her eye, and Hermione grabbed Luna by the arm as she was sweeping by her. "Luna, go with Ron to the Chamber, help him. I need to – I have to do something." She couldn't tell them, couldn't give herself away. Ron was gaping at her like she had just told him she was jumping over to the other side, but Luna merely shrugged and tugged him off in the direction the bathroom. Ron tossed her a parting glance over his shoulder, still accusatory, and more than a bit worried. The desire to go with him, to follow through on the events she knew were to come raged through her like anarchy, streaking along just in front of the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach of what else was going to happen if she didn't stop it. And if she didn't, it wasn't even going to matter.

Standing in the middle of the mayhem, she racked her brain, trying to think and piece together the events she had already lived through once, and remember where Fred was.

And then it hit her. "Percy!" She dashed off, knowing that Percy had to be making his way into Hogwarts right then, if he hadn't already, and that he and the rest of the Weasley family would be heading into the Great Hall. Hermione dashed around a group of younger students being lead up to the Room of Requirement and on to safety, fighting her way through the crowd until she saw a group of red heads assembled in a clump just inside the entrance. Kingsley and Lupin were speaking to them, and then Fred and George broke off from the group, heading towards the main hallway.

Harry caught her elbow as she ran after them, Ron and Luna with their arms full of Basilisk fangs beside him. "Hermione – Ron said you just ran off. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She lost sight of Fred and George as they darted around a corner, wands drawn. "I just have something I have to do." She started off after the twins again, but Harry's hand around her wrist stopped her in her tracks.

"Hermione, you're worrying me here."

"Yeah," Ron added, "this is no time to run off all half-cocked like Harry and me."

Somewhere deep inside Hermione's soul seemed to shudder, and she remembered just why she had always held Ron firmly in her mind and her heart, and just why she couldn't stay with him. "Ron, Harry-"

"We have to get the diadem," Harry reminded her, and she felt like an idiot for forgetting something so vital. Saving Fred couldn't be the catalyst for allowing Voldemort to win. It just couldn't.

Licking her lips, she made a split second decision, fishing through the memories of the same night and realizing that she still had some time. "Let's go."

They ran off, Luna alongside them, until Crabbe and Goyle, and then Malfoy showed up like clockwork, everything playing out exactly the way it was in her memory, right up until the sounds of a duel filled the corridor and she knew, _**knew**_ , what was happening.

Fred and Percy backed into view, both of them exchanging spell after spell with two hooded Death Eaters, one of whom of course turned out to be Thicknesse. The four of them rushed forward to help, ducking the streaks of light, until Percy began to speak, his resignation hanging on the air.

One second. No time to think about it.

A Death Eater that Hermione couldn't see fully raised his wand, and the light exploded above all their heads. With no time to think, Hermione lunged and her body collided with another, the two of them tumbling a few feet away as the world around them went to pieces.

Coughing the dust away, Hermione pushed herself up off of Fred, swiping her debris splattered hair away from her face to see that Fred was gazing up at her in astonishment.

"Bloody hell, Granger. You just saved my life."

The tightness in her chest loosened and she felt like she could breathe again. "Yeah," she said, "I guess I did."

"NO!"

Ron's shout drew their attention, and the tightness returned, constricting tightly about Hermione's lungs and heart. She turned, seeing the horrible scene she feared playing out in front of her.

Ron knelt on the stone floor, clinging to his older brother with tears of rage and grief streaking down his cheeks, leaving tracks in the coating of dirt and dust that had coated them all in the explosion. Luna was beside him, her hand on his arm, speaking in quiet tones as Harry tried to pull him away from the body.

Hermione turned her face up to Fred, and chills ran up the length of her spine. He stood beside her, immobile, white as death. In her mind, Hermione recalled that Fred's eyes had always been so full of mischief and fun. But now the sparkle was gone, and all she could see was the blank disbelief of what he was seeing. She touched his hand gently, and he turned his palm over, wrapping her cold fingers in his own larger, _**warm**_ ones.

He was alive.

No matter the consequences, that's what Hermione had agreed to when she'd made the Unbreakable Vow and promised to do anything to save Fred from the fate that she had just, unknowingly, forced his brother into.

Tears spilling over her cheeks, Hermione helped Luna gather up the Basilisk fangs while Fred went to help Harry move Percy's body out of the way of further harm.

There was still a battle left to be won, and a great evil to destroy, and the fear in her stomach was no less than the first time it had all happened.

The only difference being that this time Hermione was going to know that Harry would win, she _**knew**_ it. 

Just like she knew that she was going to have to go on with the rest of her life with the knowledge that, inadvertently, she had cause Percy's death.

How was she going to live with that?

Glancing back at Fred behind her, she caught his eye and held it, running over and over and over in her head that she had done this for a reason.

She only hoped that she would find out just what that reason was.

............

_Chapter title = 'Seize Life' in Latin. Thank you Google._


	3. praeoccupemus

 

............

"there were so many of us who would have to live with things done and   
things left undone that day. things that did not go right, things that seemed  
okay at the time because we could not see the future. if only we could see  
the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions."  
\- john green, looking for alaska

............

It all kept going, exactly as before.

She fought. She screamed when Hagrid carried Harry's limp body from the woods. She stood with Luna and Ginny until Bellatrix fell. She cheered when Voldemort was defeated, finally, on the floor of the Great Hall.

If anything, Hermione fought harder this time. Knowing the end that was supposed to happen, she did everything in her power to see that it all happened the right way.

Afterwards though, when the bodies had been removed and the tables were back, Hermione didn't do as before and go sit beside Ron. She didn't hold his hand while he thought about Fred until Harry showed up. Instead, she stood at the back of the hall, just inside the door, watching the Weasleys at the other end of what had once been relegated the Ravenclaw table.

In her head, Hermione remembered the grief stricken looks on the faces of the family that she loved so dearly when they had found out about Fred, the mourning of someone so vital. It had changed. Percy had in essence been gone for years already. He had cut himself off from his entire family, not even answering owls bearing Christmas and holiday wishes. And Charlie and Bill... they were cheated out of a reconciliation with him. They didn't know he had apologized. A heavy ball of guilt and shame settled in her stomach.  
So caught up in her own self recriminations, Hermione failed to notice that the cluster of redheads she was so affixed on was one short.

"There you are."

Startled, Hermione whirled around to see Fred leaning over her, trademark mischievous smirk threatening at the corner of his lips. Her chest tightened inexplicably. No, that wasn't entirely true. She knew why her breath refused to catch, why her pulse quickened looking up at him.

It felt almost like a dream: Fred, alive and well, in front of her. For the last three years of her life, Hermione had lived with the memory of him dying right in front of her. But that had all changed. Because she was selfish and curious, and desperate to fix that unknown something that was so wrong in her life.

Because she had, for once, acted without thinking it all the way through first.

"I've been looking all over for you," Fred told her. "Are you hiding back here or what?"

Hermione frowned, which prompted Fred to grin at her until she rolled her eyes. "I'm not hiding."

"Uh huh."

Her lips pursed. She had forgotten just how infuriating he could be. "Why exactly were you looking for me?"

His already impossibly large smile somehow broadened even more. Lowering his head closer to hers, Fred dropped his voice so low there was no way anyone but her could hear it. "You don't have to look so suspicious you know."

It took most of the strength she had left not to laugh. Levity in such a moment was so beyond inappropriate. And even though she couldn't dispel her relief at having succeeded in saving Fred, she also couldn't ignore the tremor of guilt running underneath her skin, reminding her constantly of Percy's death.

"Well, some habits can be hard to break," she told him in all seriousness.

The corners of Fred's lips seemed to twitch precariously close to a laugh, and then he shook his head, his face sobering. "Listen, Hermione, I just wanted to thank you. For what you did."

Emotion rioted in her chest, the conflict swirling from the pit of her stomach up through her heart and all the way into her throat, burning. Speech was difficult, but she managed, to her amazement, to look him in the eye and speak without her voice cracking. "I'm glad you're okay."  
Just then she was swooped down upon and squeezed within an inch of her life.

Normally, Hermione would find cause for alarm in the compromise of her breathing, but in this case she knew exactly what it was that was cutting off her air supply: Molly Weasley was hugging her tighter than she had ever been hugged before.

"Mum," Fred said, amused voice betraying him, "don't suffocate her."

Pulling back, Molly took Hermione's face between her hands. The tears in the older woman's eyes caused Hermione's stomach to knot in guilt. She had come back to save the Weasley's the pain of losing a son, not to ensure it all over again with a different child.

"Oh, Hermione," she gasped, voice heavy with tears, "Ron told me what you did, saving Fred like that." Pulling her son in by his hand, Molly shook her head before speaking again, a few more tears slipping down over the curves of her cheeks. "There aren't words to thank you enough. I don't know what I would have done if–” A choked sob clogged up her words, at which time Hermione finally allowed the tears she herself had been holding at bay to be released. Molly pulled them both close, and Hermione found herself with her side pressed tightly against Fred, her arm laid inch by inch aside his.

Over Molly's shoulder Hermione saw Ron with his eyes trained on her. More specifically, her and his mother and his older brother, who's life she had saved earlier. Confusion swam in his blue eyes as he took in the scene. Confusion and anger, more than a little grief, and relief.  
Hermione hadn't known that Ron was capable of so many simultaneous emotions.

It was a little unsettling.

 

............

The Burrow was unnaturally quiet that night. Just as she remembered.

Hermione tossed in her bed in Ginny's room, restless, sleep alluding her. The last time, she had finally passed out just before dawn, on the floor of Ron's room with him on one side of her and Harry on the other.

It was different the second time, in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Ron seemed to be avoiding her. The first time this all had happened, she had just kissed Ron for the first time, and he had needed her because Fred was gone and he didn't know how to handle that.

They didn't get that kiss, that one prefect moment she envisioned telling her grandchildren about someday; a romantic fantasy in the midst of unspeakable fear.

So along with causing Percy's death, Hermione had also cheated herself and Ron out of that moment seven years in the making.

And now it was Percy, who Ron hadn't spoken to for so long, hadn't had a chance to forgive, that was ripped away, right in front of him.

For all the blame she was placing on herself, Hermione couldn't imagine the kind of guilt that Ron was feeling.

Frustrated, Hermione tossed the covers back and crept out of the room as silently as she could. She tip-toed down the stairs, figuring that some time in front of the fire to think might help her work things out in her head, but somebody had beaten her to it.

"What are you doing up?"

Harry shrugged, poking at the fire idly to stir the ashes up. "Couldn't sleep. You?"

"Same." She settled down on the floor beside him and leaned her head onto his shoulder. She could feel the slight movement of his shoulder as he breathed, and it helped. Harry had been her reason for doing any number of things since she was a child. He was her constant.

Hermione may have been out of time and place, but she wasn't alone.

A few minutes passed before she spoke again. "How's Ron?"

Sighing, Harry takes his glasses off and rubs at his eyes. "He's… angry. At himself I think."

"For not getting a chance to reconcile with Percy before–" She stopped, unable to finish the sentence. Tears burned behind her eyes, and she sniffed and blinked to try to keep them at bay.

"Yeah."

 

............

The funeral was a sombre affair. But then, all funerals were sombre Hermione supposed.

Fred's funeral, that had been horrible. Coming the day after Tonks and Lupin were laid side by side under a large oak tree in the Lupin family cemetery, Teddy – who seemed to pick up on every little emotion of those around him – wailed even more than he had the day before, which echoed with the heart breaking sobs emitted by near every member of the Weasley family, Harry, Hagrid, McGonagall, and Hermione herself. Ron had kept a death grip on one of her hands, Ginny the other, and George... Hermione still couldn't bring herself to think too much about the look on George's face that day. If ever there was a look of pure heartbreak, she'd seen it on him.

The crowd was different this time. The same relatives, neighbours. But gone were Fred and George's employees and the Gryffindor housemates that came along after Percy had graduated, replaced by Ministry co-workers and friends unknown to the family. And Audrey. God, Hermione hadn't even realized...

Somehow, Harry had ended up between her and Ron. Ginny was in front beside her mother. Her hand dangled behind her chair, clasping Harry's, but she'd made no move to sit with them. For his part, Ron looked none too happy to have Harry sitting beside him. He'd shot a questioning glance at Hermione, seated quietly beside George, before he fixed his eyes straight ahead. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Charlie clap a hand on his shoulder from the other side, talking to him in low tones.

Halfway through the service, just as the crying really got under way, Hermione felt a small tap on her shoulder. George's hands were busy twisting a blade of grass back and forth between his fingers, so she peered around him to Fred. His eyes met hers and he gestured backwards with his head. Turning, Hermione saw her parents seating themselves in the back row, obviously hoping to evade notice. Her heart swelled at the sight of them; all she wanted was for them to wrap her up and tell her everything would be okay.

Afterwards, when they were all back at the Burrow, Hermione sought them out and her Dad squeezed her as though he'd never turn her loose. “I missed you.”

“Are you staying nearby?” she asked, hoping against hope they would say she could go home with them. But they had sold their house and their practice when she'd sent them to Australia, and even the first time they hadn't bought either one back.

Brushing her hair from her eyes, Hermione's mother smiled sadly at her. “We're staying in the village, as long as you need us.”

Nodding, she buried herself further into her father's hold, trying, vainly, to just forget it all once.

If only.

 

.............

“Hey.”

Harry plopped himself down beside her beside the water, balancing a plate in one hand and a stack of napkins and two forks in the other. Handing her one, he used the other to take an enormous bite of some kind of noodle casserole. “Eat. Fred and George may not leave you anything.”

Smiling softly, she took a small bite, but she all she tasted was ash. Nothing tasted good anymore. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. Couldn't do anything except wonder when she was going to look around and realize she was back in her own time and not stuck in the past.

But until then, she just had to make the best of things. “What brings you out here? Muriel after you again?”

Harry shuddered. “That woman is a menace. She's been making me listen to those stories _all day_. And here I thought she didn't like me.” He took another bite. “Since when does she like me?”

Snorting, Hermione laid back on the cool grass. “Everybody likes Harry Potter. Well, except Malfoy.”

With a sigh, Harry stretched himself out beside her. “Yeah, yeah.”

Suddenly aware of the coldness in her hands, Hermione rolled over to her side, manoeuvring her hands under Harry's elbow and warming them in the folds of his robe. “What's going on in there?”

“McGonagall wants us to come back to Hogwarts to finish the last year,” Harry told her. “Kingsley said we can start Auror training in the fall. Mrs. Weasley is very pro school.”

Hermione grinned. She knew what Harry was going to do, but still. A bit of normalcy was a nice distraction right now. “Afraid she's going to yell at you for not finishing school?”

“A little.” He turned to her, the moon lighting of the lenses of his glasses and the lines of his face. He was almost unrecognizable for a second, but still Harry. “You going back to Hogwarts?”

Hermione sighed. “I don't know, Harry. I don't know anything any more.”

 

............

_Two weeks later…_

Hermione walked down the steps of the Burrow, heading toward the silence of the pond, breathing in the air of an early summer night. She loved the time of year, just before it became too hot.

She had been down here a lot the past few weeks. It was a good place to think without all the hectic noise and activity that always fluttered about in the Burrow no matter how many of them were there. Fred and George had gone back their shop, Charlie back to Romania, and their absences seemed to take up even more space than their presences now that Ginny was preparing to head back to Hogwarts and Harry and Ron were tiptoeing around telling Mrs. Weasley that they had decided to move into Grimmauld Place and start Auror training. She wasn't sure what Molly would do with none of them there.

She heard the loud distinctive pop of apparation and turned her head. Fred and George were kicking a ball back and forth between them, bright sparks of light flicking between their shoes. Noticing her, George kicked it over and she flung her hands out on instinct to catch it before letting it fall unceremoniously to the ground for fear of burns.

“Oi, that thing hasn't touched the ground in over in hour. Way to ruin the game, Granger.” Geroge scowled good-naturedly at her and tugged a lock of her hair. For the ball's part, it simply lay there, still bright and sparkly, but no longer shooting off.

“Sorry.”

When she didn't seem inclined to say anything else, George merely shrugged and headed off, wondering aloud what was for dinner.

“Sickle for your thoughts.”

Glancing over at Fred, Hermione sighed. “They're not worth that much.”

“Bollocks.”

She laughed, unable to help herself. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she blurted out, “I don't think I want to go back to school.”

Only a handful of Hermione's class had gone back to Hogwarts after the war. The few that had been there during term hadn't finished, understandably, and chose to study at home for NEWTS, as had a lot that hadn't been allowed or able to go to back at all. Hermione and Neville had been the only ones from Gryffindor to opt for a full year back. But the second time around, Hermione found it hard to pack up her things and get ready to head off for school.

Not finishing school was never an option for Hermione before. Not even for one second. School was what she loved, what she excelled at. She loved to learn.

But Hermione had redone her last year. She went back, did the essays, wrote the exams, cheered at the Quidditch matches - all the little things she had missed the year she spent on the run with Ron and Harry, and worried she would never get a chance to do again. Doing it for a second time, if she truly would not be going back to her own time, wasn't as welcome an idea.

Fred let out a low whistle. “I did not see that coming.”

“I just...” She wasn't sure how to explain it, least of all to Fred. She hadn't even told Ron and Harry yet. “It feels like it would be a step backwards, you know? And without everyone there – our entire class is gone. I don't think I'd feel like I belonged there.” That was partly true at any rate.

“Neville's going.”

“He has Ginny, he'll be fine. They actually got pretty close last year.”

Fred scowled. “How close?”

Laughing, Hermione toed at the ball with her foot. “Not like that. It's just... I don't feel like I belong in school anymore.”

“Okay then.” Fred stooped to pick the ball up, stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans. “Guess the train will be one bookworm short.” With a grin he ambled inside, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

 

.............

_Chapter title = Latin for 'seize the opportunity'._


	4. capere mutatio

"There are always alternatives."  
Mr. Spock, Star Trek: TOS

............

 

To say that it surprised everyone that Hermione opted not to return to school was an understatement.

She felt a little sad, the day she went with the Weasleys to King's Cross, and said goodbye to Ginny and Luna and Neville. The four of them had had some good times that last year. A deep chasm in her heart opened up. That year… it was precious to her, akin but not entirely the same as her first year when she met Ron and Harry and for once in her life had actual friends.

Harry turned to her and Ron, the shapes of Mr. and Weasley, Mrs. Longbottom, and Andromeda Tonks with her arms full of Teddy, disappearing into the dispersing crowd. "So… What now?"

Hermione looked at Ron, who shrugged and averted his eyes just a little quicker than she would have expected. Her heart sank. Ron hadn't been the same around her since the battle. On the all too brief occasions that she could get him to look at her for more than ten seconds she could have almost sworn that she saw the ghost of herself dashing down the Hogwarts hallway flashing out at her from the blue of Ron's eyes.

So she stopped trying. It would just take some time to get things back on track.

And in the meantime… she had months of free time and no way to fill it. NE.W.T.S. weren't until the end of the school term, and she would have to wait along with everyone else in her year. She could study, of course, but most of what she remembered from sitting the exam told her that most of the spells and charms were ones she could do with her eyes closed, and she used several of them on a regular basis since leaving school. So that left her with months and months of empty days.

Harry and Ron, she knew what they were going to do. After Mrs. Weasley insisted that Ron wasn't going to waste his time off doing nothing until the fall, and insistied he find a job, he and Harry had set out to find something, only to be constantly bombarded by the press at every turn. (Hermione recalled sitting in front of the Gryffindor fireplace with Ginny and Neville while Harry and Ron's likenesses groused out from the common room fireplace about their total lack of privacy anymore, feeling both guilty and relieved that being at school shielded her from that type of invasion.) Eventually, they decided to just travel about a bit, bouncing around between Weasley relatives and cheap Muggle motels and even staying with the Delacours at their vineyard in Marseilles, getting hopelessly tipsy and staining their clothes with wine.

Hermione had always been just a tad jealous that she had been at Hogwarts, up to her eyes in essays while they traipsed about Europe like Nomads. She'd thought they all had enough of never staying in the same place for more than one night, but apparently not.

I could go with them now, she thought. I could go travelling with them if I wanted to.

It was tempting. Very tempting. But at the same time… they were only gone a few weeks, just long enough for the fervour surrounding the three of them to fade enough for them to get jobs. Hogsmeade weekends were always a treat at school, but they became even more so when it meant seeing Ron and Harry who always managed to get off work at Spintwitches just in time.

"Don't know about you two," Ron said, "but I'm starving."

They decided to go to the Leaky Cauldron for something to eat, and then wander around Diagon Alley for a bit.

After they eat, they ran into Fred and George outside Gringott's.

"Who let you lot in here?" George asks, wide smile on his face. "This is a place for respectable, grown up people."

"Then what are you doing here?" Ron deadpans.

The five of them walk towards the twin's shop, while Ron recounted the horrific decree his mother had laid down about him getting a job. "What am I supposed to do? I don't even have my N.E.W.T.S. yet, so it's not like I can get anything good."

Fred chuckled. "Fortescue's is about to reopen. Maybe they need a busboy."

"Yeah," George chimed in. "I heard Mrs. Fortescue is going to have all the employees were bowties and hats now."

Turning a faint shade of pink, Ron muttered for both of them to shut up.

…………

 

When Harry and Ron decided they wanted to browse around Quality Quidditch Supplies, Hermione told them she was going to go over to Flourish and Blott's and would meet up with them later on.

As she browsed through the new releases, Hermione noticed a few people throwing covert looks at her when they thought she wouldn't notice. But she did, and after a few moments, grew so annoyed that she attempted to storm out – only to run directly into a help wanted sign floating around the shop. She waved it away in annoyance, and the sound of a chuckle came from behind her.

Fred was grinning smugly when she turned around.

Standing up as straight as she could, she narrowed her eyes and said, "It's not very nice to go sneaking up on people."

He raised one shoulder and dropped it back down in a lazy shrug. "It's also not very nice to scold your elders like schoolchildren Miss Granger."

Hermione snorted. Fred being her 'elder' was a ridiculous concept for many reasons. Mostly because he was Fred, and everything about his personality fairly screamed of immaturity, but also because, in her head, she was a year older than he was.

Still smiling, Fred looked at the sign that was continuing to hover behind Hermione's shoulder. "Seems you've made a friend."

She turned around. Having read up on the subject, Hermione knew that magical help wanted signs tended to follow people that they believed to be more attuned to the job than others. The idea wasn't the worst one she'd ever heard…

"That the plan then?" He asked, turning a random book on a nearby table over in his hands. "The three of you, get job until N.E.W.T.S., move into Grimmauld Place, be joined at the hip forever."

"Said the twin," she retorted. To her amazement, Fred laughed. An honest to goodness, deep down laugh.

Quirking an eyebrow, he regarded her as if seeing her for the first time. "Good one, Granger."

 

............

 

When she told her parents about her plan that night, they looked at her as if they didn't quite know who she was. But that was to be expected. Voluntarily giving up her last year of school was out of character enough for her, but the idea of getting a job and a flat on a magical street accessible only through an out of the way pub was entirely out of left field.

At least to them.

"Well…" her mother began, looking to be at an utter loss for what to say, "If that's what you want to do, honey, but what about your school work?"

"I can keep up on by myself." Taking a deep breath, she speaks slowly – in hopes that she won't blurt out the fact that she had already lived on her own for two years. "I need something to do with my time."

"But do you really have to move out on your own?" Her father looked more sad than Hermione remembered about the idea of her getting her own place.

Part of her liked being back with her parents again. When she left Hogwarts she had spent so much time at the Burrow that it really wasn't that big of a difference when she moved out entirely. But this time around she had been back in her old house for months, and after so long… her parents must have gotten used to having her around.

"I won't be far," she said. Diagon was only twenty minutes from her parent's neighbourhood, whenever they were going to be in London, and she could be there in seconds if need be. "I just… it feels right somehow."

Resigned, they both took a deep breath and nodded.

............

 

Hermione's flat was in the building that had once housed Whizz Hard Book's Publishing. It had been so damaged during the attacks of the war that the company had merged with Obscurus Books and moved into their larger building. When she moved in the first time, the owner of the building had told her that some people were still wary about Diagon Alley after such violence had happened there, and her flat had been empty since it was converted from an office around the same time that she had returned to Hogwarts.

After a few failed attempts to get her to move into Grimmauld Place, Harry and Ron had finally relented and helped her bring her stuff in and unpack boxes.

"Can't we just magic this stuff in place?" Ron whined, as he held up one end of the sofa. "All that time with Muggles has made you regress."

"Honestly, Ron," she snapped, ignoring that Ron had just actually used such a word, "its not going to kill you. Just move a little to the left."

She heard her mother chuckle from the kitchen where she was 'organizing' Hermione's cutlery drawer and washing the new dishes she'd insisted on buying.

"Knock, knock."

She turned around and saw Mrs. Weasley and the twins standing in her doorway. They'd left it open to bring in the furniture and had never gotten around to closing it. She smiled, motioning for them to come in.

"We're here to help," Mrs. Weasley told her, handing her a large covered casserole dish. "What needs to be done?"

"Magic," Ron muttered.

A few minutes and a good scolding from his mother later, Ron had helped Harry and Fred arrange all the furniture in her living room and kitchen while she and George unpacked and put away all her book and her mother and Mrs. Weasley got the kitchen and the washroom in order.

Collapsing on the squishy armchair that had been sitting unused in her father's study for as long as she could remember, George stretched his fingers out and grimaced. You have entirely too many books, Hermione. You can't have read all those."

Her mother walked by, putting on her jacket. "She has three more boxes at home."

George groaned.

..................

 

Hermione lay in bed that night, feeling like things were almost normal. After being out of her flat for so long, it felt fantastic to be back. It felt like home.

 

..................

 

By lunchtime the next day, Hermione had managed to get groceries, a Gringott's account, a haircut, and the job at Flourish and Blott's.

After that, she really had nothing to do. It hadn't taken that long to put things away from the places where her Mum and Mrs. Weasley had put them, and she'd gotten her bedroom in order. It was shockingly easier to do the second time around, without all the debating of what would look best where.

So she decided to go for a walk. A few of the businesses had opted not to reopen after the war, and there were several new ones that had sprung up in their places. She was long used to them, but seeing the other people out and about discovering them for the first time was a change. It made her smile, and that was something she was still getting used to doing again.

She stopped in at Madame Malkin's and bought some new robes, and then on to the London branch of Scrivenshaft's for some quills. She was thinking about heading over to Eeylop's to buy an owl… Harry had given her a baby owl as a house warming present in her own time that she thought was darling at first (until it dug its nail into her leg hard enough to leave scars and she'd sent him to Hagrid), but this time around he had given her a cookbook. "I remember my Aunt Petunia giving them for presents," he'd explained with a blush. "Said practical was better than flashy."

Eeylop's was across the street from the twin's shop, and as she passed she saw Fred arranging a display in the window. It was still a bit surreal, to say the least, that Fred was alive and well, going on as he always had. And moments when it would hit her again she would get an ache in her chest remembering the price that had been paid for him to still be there.

As if sensing her eyes on him, Fred looked up and waved. He motioned for her to stay where she was and disappeared from sight. A few seconds later he walked out the front door, his magenta robes even brighter in the direct sunlight than they were in the store lights. He must have noticed her squint, for he unlatched his robe and shrugged it off. His jeans and long sleeve t shirt weren't as hard on the eyes.

"Hey," he said. "What are you doing this fine morning, wandering around, ogling random shop owners through windows?"

A small laugh escaped her. "I'm thinking about getting an owl."

Fred nodded. Extracting two pieces of candy from his pocket, he offered her one and grinned when she looked at it dubiously. "It's just toffee, promise." He unwrapped one and popped it into his mouth. "See?"

So she took it. But the guarded look refused to leave her face.

"You don't have to look so suspicious," he said. "I'm not trying to poison you or anything." Falling into step with her, he shoved his hands in his pockets. "So… how are things?"

Hermione shrugged. "Okay. I got the job at Flourish and Blott's."

Chuckling, he nodded. "Of course you did. You've only read, what - 80% of the inventory?"

She rolled her eyes but said nothing.

"I see you also cut your hair," he replied, offhand, and waved to someone passing by on the opposite side of the street.

One hand flew up to the ends of her hair self consciously. Guys didn't usually notice things like haircuts. At least, not in her experience. As much as she loved Harry and Ron, they were so oblivious to that sort of thing she would probably have had to shave her head to get them to notice her hair.

Another chuckle escaped Fred's throat. She had forgotten just how easily he could laugh.

"Last time I saw you, you looked a little scraggly. Much different from the Hermione Granger who used to threaten to send me to detention," he quipped. "Not the kind of thing a bloke forgets."

After that, they fell into easy conversation. He explained to her, in great detail, about the new contraption he and George were working on, taking great delight in her scandalized expression. She told him how much she missed her parents - more than she thought she would to be truthful. The subject of Ron and Harry's disastrous attempts to find jobs came up, followed by Molly's teary moping about Ron moving out of the Burrow and into Grimmauld Place with Harry.

Finally, just as Eeylop's came into view, Fred broached the subject of Hogwarts. "What's that all about? I thought you bookworms thrived on academia and all that."

Remarking on her surprise that he even knew the word 'academia', Hermione looked off into the distance, where the skyline of London proper was just visible over the walls surrounding Diagon Alley from Muggle sight, trying to gather her thoughts. It wasn't as if she could tell him that she had finished school two years earlier and then got zapped back in time by a deceitful future version of herself. "It just didn't feel… right," she managed at last, hearing how lame an explanation that was even to herself.

"Fair enough."

Eyes narrowing, Hermione looked the boy in front of her up and down, trying to ascertain some proof that this actually was Fred Weasley standing in front of her, and not some magical creature or an Imperiused variety. But he blinked back at her, bemused smirk playing along the edges of his mouth. She shook her head. This entire situation was making her much too mistrustful. "You wanna know something, Fred?"

He grinned. "You think I'm sexy, don't you?"

An elderly pair of witches walking by looked at them appalled and shocked at hearing Fred's remark. Face heating in embarrassment, Hermione shoved at his shoulder and stalked into the store alone, leaving him bent over in laughter on the street.

Definitely the same old Fred.

...................

 

_One week later…_

Huffing out a frustrated breath, Hermione pushed her hair back off her face and stretched her arm out as far as she could manage. Avery, a hopelessly accident prone wizard who reminded her a lot of Seamus in their first years at Hogwarts, had been attempting to demonstrate for her some new spell he claimed to have invented and ending up blowing himself through one of the store room shelves, and her wand somehow ended up on top of another by the front door.  
While the only other employee working that day took Avery to St. Mungo's, Hermione was left to mind the shop by herself, which would be much easier after she managed to retrieve her wand.

Her fingers brushed the tip and she grappled for it, pushing herself further towards the edge.

But all she managed to do was knock it in the opposite direction and the bell over the door signaling a customer startled her, making her shriek and her hand slipped, sending her tumbling off the ladder and directly into the arms of an equally surprised Fred Weasley.

"Well this is different," he quipped, looking down into her flushed face.

Harry, Ron, and George standing behind him in the doorway looked on in amusement as a flustered Hermione was set on her feet. She regarded Fred, who was entirely too smug for his own good, before blowing her hair away from her face. "Good catch."

He grinned. "I always thought so."

All four boys chuckled and she rolled her eyes. "Did you come in here just to torment me while I'm working? I do have things to do."

Looking pointedly at the empty shop, Ron looked at her as though she were nuts. "Yeah, you look real busy, Hermione."

"I was trying to get my wand," she pointed to the shelf, explaining about Avery and the spell mishap. With a grin, Harry took out his own wand and got it down for her.

"So what are you all doing here? There's no crisis going on, is there?" She asked it because it sounded like something she would ask. Hermione knew perfectly well why they were there. It was time for Harry and Ron to leave, and she figured they had come to let her know.

And she was right. They told her about the disastrous job interviews all over Diagon Alley and how they'd had to duck the Prophet photographers at every turn.

Whenever they came too close for Hermione's liking, she threatened to curse them. They promptly disappeared after that. Harry and Ron obviously hadn't stumbled onto that strategy yet though.

Then they asked her to come with them.

Hermione looked between them, their hopeful expressions hitting her square in the stomach. She loved these boys. She would do anything in the world for them, and they all knew it. Then she thought of herself at Hogwarts without them, surrounded by people and so lonely knowing they weren't there. There was nothing else in the world she had wanted than to have them with her again, but she'd stayed because it was the right thing to do.

Back then, she would have gone with them if possible. Now… she had lived through it, and come out none the worse for wear. She had been away from them for the better part of a year and then they had all gone about with their lives, still seeing each other but living apart, living their own lives.

If she was really supposed to do things differently, she should go with them. And yet, something inside her told Hermione that it was the wrong thing to do. Whatever tiny fracture had occurred between the two of them when Ron left her and Harry in the tent that night healed while they were gone. They came home better than ever. She couldn't intrude on that.

So she took a deep breath and offered up a small smile. "Maybe next time."

..................

 

_November_

The snow fell in a light powder as Hermione walked towards her building. It had been a long day. Christmas was just a little over six weeks away and it seemed as books were the hot gift item. Normally that would delight her, but she'd had to stay an extra hour and her feet were killing her. Not to mention that she hadn't gotten the chance to finish her lunch and was starving.

"Hermione!"

Turning, she saw Fred making his way through the crowd towards her, a heavy parcel in his hands.

He came to a stop in front of her, white flakes sticking to his hair. "Glad I caught you."

"Fred, where's your coat?" she demanded. He was wearing his magenta robes over his usual clothes, but nothing to guard against the frigid temperature. "Or your gloves? You'll get sick running around in the cold like that."

"Oh, you know what it does to me when you get all bossy." He gave her a cheeky grin that made her face glow scarlet. He raised the box in his hands slightly - just enough to draw her attention to it. "Mum was just in the shop, dropping off her usual load of food. She made me promise to see to it that you got your share tonight."

Hermione peered over the edge of the box, similar to the ones she received on a regular basis, (Molly seemed to think that they were all in danger of starvation out of her sight) spying several covered dishes. Each one was giving off a thick aroma that made her mouth water. She inhaled, wanting nothing more than to tear into it right there on the street.

Fred must have noticed, for when she looked up at him he was looking at her with a smile of bemused indulgence. "Hungry?"

"You have no idea." She made to take the box from him, but he twisted at the waist, angling it out of her reach.

"Mum would have my head if I let you carry this huge thing up to your flat," he told her. "Lead the way."

He followed her up the stairs and she held the door to her flat open for him to carry the box inside. He sat it on the table, groaning a little when he turned back around and rubbing at his lower back. He caught her eye and smiled. "Left my wand at the shop. Otherwise I wouldn't have hauled that monster."

Hermione smiled. "The effort is much appreciated. Thanks, Fred."

"No problem." Reaching over the rim of the cardboard, he peeled the lid off one bowl and popped a small potato in his mouth. "Any time you need a packhorse… call George."

"Ha ha," she replied dryly.

The snow was coming down harder outside, the soft flakes of before giving way to fat, wet dollops that built up quickly on her window ledge. She stared out her dark window, seeing the lights of the surrounding buildings backlighting the fall, making it seem to glow.

Harry and Ron were in Greece. She had gotten an owl from Harry that morning, telling about the beaches and how blue the water looked against the white houses and white sand.

It may not have been the sand, but Hermione thought the white view outside her window was no less beautiful.

Fred came over and stood behind her, peering into the emptying streets of Diagon Alley. "Sickle for your thoughts, Granger."

A small smile quirked at the corners of her mouth. "They're not worth that much." Pulling off her hat and gloves, she set to unbuttoning her coat. "I think I'm going to dive into that box. Care to join me?"

Looking surprised, Fred stared down at her as if he wasn't quite sure who he was seeing before a leering grin broke across his face. "Are you propositioning me?"

A wave of indignation crashed over Hermione, followed by a heavier swell of annoyance. Did he always have to be so flippant about everything? "Are you capable of being serious - even for two seconds?"

Fred's ever present smile slipped. He frowned down at Hermione, the gesture making him look even taller than he was and he already towered over her. A thick tension filled the air around them, and the silence of the room intensified until Hermione could almost swear that she heard it.

And then, just as quickly as it disappeared, his smile was back in place. He was again the same boy who used to live to pull pranks on elderly caretakers and unassuming first years without even thinking about it. "Where's the fun in being serious?"

"Perhaps it would show people that you actually have a little depth," she blurted out before she could stop it.

Again, as Fred's lost its jovial mask, replaced by a stunned expression. And, unless she was mistaken, a tiny flash of hurt flickered in his eyes. His features school, and he sits down on the edge of the sofa arm, and Hermione could all but see the cogs turning, round and round, inside his head. His lips pursed, and his head bobbed down and back up again. "Ouch."

All at once Hermione is overcome by a staggering feeling of guilt that made her hang her head and avert her eyes, trying desperately not to cry. "Fred… I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

He shrugs. "Eh, it's okay." Though he looks the very picture of Weasley twin ease, that signature sparkle in his eye is missing, magnifying her guilt because it is, in fact, her fault. Entirely. A hard, sharp lump lodged in her throat. When she tried to swallow over it the only effects were a painful almost burning sensation and the hot taste of bile behind it.

Eventually Freddie speaks again, just when the awkward silence seemed to manifest into an actual presence, sitting on her sofa and batting its eyes between the two of them like a spectator at Wimbledon, but voice sounds unfamiliar in a way that Hermione doesn't like and is well aware is entirely her fault.

"I better get back to the shop. George tends to get himself into trouble when left to his own devices for too long." His attempt at a breezy tone fell flat, all but landing in a heap on the carpet. "You know how we Wealsey's are."

He started for the door; Hermione caught his wrist of one hand as the other landed on the doorknob. "Fred, I truly am sorry."

She gets a small smile in return. "Don't worry your overstuffed head about it, Hermione." Pulling the door open, he stepped into the hallway and turned back to face her. "It's certainly not the worst thing that's been said to me. In fact, I believe you've said worse to me yourself." He grinned, this time genuine. "Bossiest Prefect I ever saw - especially for a little thing like yourself."

Annoyance twisting her features, Hermione tutted under her breath. "Just so you know, I was planning to ask George as well."

"Sure." Fred gave her a Cheshire cat smile, the glint back in his blue eyes.

The tension gone, Hermione shut the door, forgetting almost at once the harsh words and guilt. Fred had turned the entire situation on his head.

He was good at things like that.

...................

Chapter title = "seize change".


End file.
